A logophile is what you first called me,

sauntering away with cool confidence

while I stared, mouth agape,

at our first exchange.

I think about you when it rains.

I pull the blanket more tightly around myself,

thinking of you in this way,

makes my body ache

with melancholy.

I think about you when it rains.

You came out to join me,

on the balcony

I’ve always loved to watch storms,

but this one, you watched with me.

Your hands wrapped around me,

You hugged me from behind

so we both could still see

the sound of the thunder

struck me with awareness -

the sad knowing that soon you’d have to go

Far enough away that things would

inevitably change

It’s one of my fondest memories

of you and me

and so

with quiet sorrow

I think about you when it rains.

It rained that day.

You came into class late that day.

Soaked from head to toe,

you walked into the class,

your hair dripping water,

with you friend.

In your hand was a book,

that belonged to the class library.

You and your best friend had run in the rainstorm,

just to rescue a book,

that was already soaked.

I think,

maybe, just maybe,

it was that day,

I fell for you.

I think about you when it rains…

when a glorious sun

shining in a cloudless sky

suddenly disappears

turning bright day

to almost night

tumultuous clouds

slate gray

scuttle by while

a gentle breeze

like a sigh

turns fierce

and finds me

standing there

shivering

face up

eyes full

as rain falls…

the past calls.

I think about you when it rains.

I think about you when it rains.

I watch the drops twist,

curl, change degree of angle,

sliding down the window.

They match the tears from my eyes.

Where dust and ash drink heaven’s rain

And spill the sands of sorrow’s cache

If tears tell time, then time heals pain

Salt preserves, though mem’ries wane,

Death, branded on the heart and flesh

Where dust and ash drink heaven’s rain

Fingers trace chilled window panes

The glass-of-hours-before, I sketch

If tears tell time, then time heals pain

Crystal faced with stainless veins

Diamond dew mists emerald grass

Where dust and ash drink heaven’s rain

Ours lost, yet, future gains

That which will, hold all that’s past

If tears tell time, then time heals pain

My pocket watch, your golden chain

One lightning strike, eternal, etched:

“Where dust and ash

drink heaven’s rain,

if tears tell time,

then time heals pain”

I think about you

when it rains

Which is funny

because it wasn't

even raining that

night

maybe it was the kind of deep, heavy day that felt like rain

I think about

my smile, which I

had preserved for you

Because I wanted

to be something other than

afraid

but i was so afraid, can't you taste it? the fear, heavy as rain

And all our

memories

seem entangled with the thought -- rain

Maybe it's

because

rain is

sadly happy

and it

never lasts

did you feel the rain, the fearful rain? or were the clouds over my head only

I haven't seen

rain for a while

now

And maybe that's

ok

you used to say

that raindrops

were big, fat tears

the angels cried

i'd raise my face to the sky,

stick out my little tongue

and catch them in my mouth

to get a taste of heaven

i let them wash over my skin

reveling in divine sadness

dancing in the downpour

because i didn't yet know what grief was

now i think of you when it rains

and i wonder

if i looked skyward and opened my mouth

would your tears be the raindrops i caught?

i think about you

when it rains

because everytime

the raindrops

splatter on my window,

i would remember

how we would watch the rain fall

together.

we would stay indoors

and listen to the soft music

of the rain hitting the roof,

or sometimes close our eyes

and fall asleep

with the windows open.

the rain would be our song,

we needed nothing else.

we would laugh

as we made a contest of

which rain drop would go the fastest,

rain was our bond,

our love in physical form,

and i cannot express it

in any way with words;

rain was our communication.

we lived in a world

of our on fantasies,

on those rainy days.

while everyone else

wished for it to go away,

we would make our own world,

write our own stories,

sing our own tunes.

it was like rain

created a new dream for us;

we would lose ourselves

in the soft beat

and wisk away

to our own imagination —

our young love

would shine bright.

but then i lost you;

and now everytime i see the rain,

i think of you

and all of the time we shared.

i think of our laughter

and our jokes,

and our love;

i miss us.

but you’re not here anymore

and rain brings just a memory.

yet i don’t want it to be;

my tears

from mourning the past

cannot melt

with the precious memories

of us.

so when the rain comes tomorrow,

i will take up my pen.

i will write my own world,

without you;

the rain will be my melody,

my laughter,

my jokes,

and my own self love.

i think about you

and us and ficuses,

how they can only drink

so much water

before they sputter.

noon on some sunday.

you wrapped around me,

bow-ish, like a pret

cinnamon roll.

everyone warns you

of the rain in london,

but no one ever mentions

its lulls of sun.

you’d come to my room

with mochas for hands.

when it rains, it doesn’t pour

like it used to.

i don’t miss you anymore.

we drank each other up,

took what we needed,

made for an ethereal story.

now, i want a love

that wags its tail

each morning,

that will follow me

from here to home.